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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457055">Drifting Waves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lytri/pseuds/Lytri'>Lytri</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stories I May or May Not Expand On [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:15:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lytri/pseuds/Lytri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is marooned to a tiny Island in the One Piece world. </p>
<p>(Just a random story snippet)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stories I May or May Not Expand On [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drifting Waves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>I</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A black gull flew by, the sweeping arc of its wing kissing the surface of a glimmering sea. The sun was high, no cloud daring to cover up its brilliance on such a beautiful day. This was the third day in a row that it had been sunny and warm, the sea stretching out before Harry in an endless pool of blue. So different from dreary old England, with its sky of seemingly never ending clouds and rain and the mercurial depths of it’s shores. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t help but marvel at the sight before him, despite the circumstances he was in. He didn’t quite know what brought him here: to a tiny little island in the middle of the ocean. One day he slipped under the warm covers of his bed, belly warm from a good meal and even better firewhiskey, only to wake up to the smell of saltwater in the air and sand in places sand had no business being in. He supposed he was just lucky his wand and cloak followed him, and strangely enough his blanket too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had been three days now, stranded on this island with no rescue in sight. The blanket turned out to be rather handy: add some pillars of sand and temperature charms and he was completely safe from the harsh sun and cold nights. The hunger that gnawed at his stomach was easy enough to beat back, and water was no issue with his wand. But he knew that he couldn’t hold on for ever. Supposedly, if he recalled one of Hermione’s endless facts correctly, he could last for roughly three weeks without food, but that didn’t mean he had any desire to do so. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There had been no sign of anything that could rescue him, however. No ships, no planes, no merfolk or magical creatures - nothing. He had tried sending some flares up into the sky with his wand, tried sending out a patronus to Hermione and Ron and even Draco-bloody-Malfoy, but it had been to no avail. If only he had his firebolt with him. It would have solved all his problems if he could just fly back home. But he didn’t, and he quite honestly didn’t know what to do. How does one fight an enemy such as this? His pitiful island didn’t even have a palm tree. Just sand and rocks and the weighty feel of his own hopelessness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and laid back onto the sand. At this point he was completely desensitised to the itchy press of sand all over his skin. The first couple of days he had zealously washed himself in the ocean, but he quickly learnt that doing such a thing was fighting an already lost battle. No matter how many times he washed himself, the sand would just come back the moment he walked back on shore.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He idly swirled his finger on the ground, listening to the faint shifting of sand alongside the constant lapping of waves. It was only mid-day yet he could feel himself growing sleepy, his eyes blinking more often than normal and his mind in a bit of a daze. He supposed that the pleasant heat didn’t help much, the warmth akin to being curled up in his bed. Funnily enough, he’s had some of the best nights of sleep in what might be his entire life on this island. Maybe it was the soothing sounds of the ocean that kept the nightmares away, or it could just be that the consecutive nights of interrupted sleep finally took its toll. Either way, all things considered, him being marooned onto this little island was honestly not the worst thing to happen to him. Not in a long shot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yawning, he let his heavy eyelids shut close. He wasn’t going to sleep - not yet at least - but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes for a little bit. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He let the surrounding sounds wash over him, the waves carrying him off to some distant place. It was . . . nice, doing nothing. As someone who felt like he never took the time to stop and take a breath his entire life, it was liberating being all alone; free to just unwind. No responsibilities, no nagging friends and family - he loved them, but sometimes enough was enough - no nothing. Though, he knew for a fact that he couldn’t do this forever. As much as he appreciated the break, he knew it would drive him mad if he were this free everyday. The itch to move around and do something would only get worse the longer he ignored it, and boredom was sure to follow. It was just in his nature to be doing something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Boom!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shot up, instantly alert, his hand gripping his wand in a white-knuckled grip. Ever so slowly, he glanced to his side, where a still smoking cannonball had made its home in the sand, just a hair’s breadth away from where he was just lying. A cold sweat ran down his neck. Just because he was infamous for avoiding death’s clutches didn’t make near-death experiences any more pleasant. Being blown to tiny bits was certainly not the way he would prefer to go. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vague shouting could be heard in the distance, and Harry looked out in front of him. He stared for a long moment, slowly blinking his eyes as if the sight in front of him would somehow change.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In front of him and floating on the waters was a ship. But it wasn’t any old ship. While fairly medium in size, it made up for it with its sheer absurdity. A demented skull and crossbones flag lightly fluttered in the air, the mere sight of it an offence to the eyes, and at the ship head was what could only be described as the love child from a triast between Trelawney and a shark. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry grimaced. He really didn’t need that mental image. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had a sinking feeling that the people on that ship weren’t all there in the head, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so he slowly made his way to his feet and waved his arms while calling out. Surely, if they shot a cannon ball of all things at his tiny island, they would have noticed him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he saw the boat turn its course and head in his direction, he stopped making such a spectacle and stared as the people on the boat slowly came into focus. They were . . . pirates. Considering the flag that the ship waved around, he really should have expected that, but it just really caught him by surprise. He didn’t even know that pirates were still a thing. Well, pirates who played by the stereotype to a T, at least, with boots and swords and guns and some even with funny hats. He half expected a man to descend onto shore fully decked out with an eyepatch and peg leg, a green parrot perched on their shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the ship docked itself he subtly concealed his wand and prepared for a conflict. He would feel things out first before doing anything. If they showed no hostility, that would be good, but considering they were pirates he wasn’t so sure that would even be a possibility. Not that he’s had any experience dealing with pirates, that is. For all he knew they might whisk him away for a grand old drinking party, singing jolly tunes and being unable to tell their tankard from their own hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five men dropped down frown the ship, one trying to wear a sneer but failing miserably in Harry’s opinion, the pirate looking like someone playing dress up more than anything else. The sneering one appeared to be the leader of the bunch that approached him, his hands the most laden with jewelry and his gun partially made of what looked like gold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sneering one immediately pulled out a gun and pointed it at Harry without so much as a ‘Hello, how are you?’ to which Harry would have responded with an ‘Oh I’m just grand, thank you. Care to sail me back to England?’ and the pirates would have jovally agreed without any hesitation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, such a perfect situation was not to be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘Well lookie here,’ one of the pirates said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry raised his hands, deciding to go along with things for now. He was sorely outnumbered at the moment, and would rather not get into an out-right brawl, especially against guns. But the moment they let down their guards . . . He fought to keep a grin from working its way onto his face. It was a while since he had a fight, his life as an Auror having slowed down ever since all the remaining Death Eater resisters were captured. Though, they seemed more like wannabee-pirates who have no idea what they’re doing, and he strongly questioned their competence. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘Who is it, Zack?’ an authoritative voice called from the ship. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘We seemed to have found ourselves a pretty one, Captain,’ the sneering one - Zack - shouted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s mouth slightly pursued at the comment. He was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty,</span>
  </em>
  <span> thank you very much. He just . . . needed to do a bit more growing (a person could grow taller in their twenties, right? Right?). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘Pretty enough to sell?’ the Captain asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘Oh yes yes, he’ll fetch a mighty fine sum of beli. The Captain has a contact over in Sabaody that always offers a fair price.’</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry furrowed his eyebrows, trying to analyse the information he heard so far. It appeared that the pirates were into human trafficking, but he still had no idea where he was. He assumed beli was a form of money, but wasn’t familiar with any countries that used beli as a currency. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘Tie his hands,’ Zack ordered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry let himself get tied up and put on the ship. They dragged him to a small storage room and shoved him in, the door slamming shut. The click of a lock sounded. Sitting down it took him no time to untie his bindings, internally shaking his head at their poor skills. Clearly they were no professionals, he concluded. He settled into a more comfortable position, letting out a sigh. For now would just bide his time for while getting a free ride to wherever the pirates were headed. There wasn’t really any need to rush. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
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